


Bonadan

by Drakey



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 00:49:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6589966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakey/pseuds/Drakey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carth takes the news of Revan's hidden past poorly, but Revan chases after him for a heart-to-heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bonadan

**Author's Note:**

> I've been doing a replay of the game. Light side male, and for my own amusement, played as much as a gay character as possible. The confrontation with Malak on the Leviathan bothers me. You whittle his hitpoints down to about an eighth, and then Bastila shows up to rescue you, but... why? Bastila interrupted so sound an asskicking that if she had shown up six seconds later, twelve at the outside, she would have been rescuing me from The Pile of Dismembered Limbs Formerly Known as Malak. If you really mess up, it can be a struggle to get to that point, but it would take some effort. I was a Consular, and I was beating him in a swordfight. I stared at the TV and told her to gimme a minute, I had one last Sith Lord to kill and I'd be along presently.

Carth stormed away, not to the cockpit, but to the portside crew quarters. It was a fairly clear signal: leave me alone. Nobody used those quarters unless they were using them for privacy.

"That went well," Mission said. "I especially liked the part where he said Malak was your puppet."

HK-47 watched T3 whistle and trill supportively for a moment, and then chimed in with "Statement: much as I am ashamed to agree with this lesser construction, I do concur, Master. It would be an honor to put Carth out of our collective misery. Hopeful prediction: without the pilot's disturbing insistence on nonviolence and selflessness, we may even be able to efficiently go about the business of slaughtering your enemies wholesale."

Canderous snorted. "That's not going to happen, gearbucket."

"Query," the droid began, but Canderous cut him off.

"Even if our resident Sith Lord would allow it, I'd stop you, unless you think I _like_ the idea of letting Mission fly us around like Baby's First Freighter."

Zaalbar let out a little laugh, and Mission swatted him on the shoulder. "Shut up, Bantha Breath," she hissed.

"I could easily fly the ship," Juhani pointed out. "We would not truly lack for a pilot."

"I used to be a pilot, myself," Jolee began, sounding as though he was off to a magnificent rambling story, but Canderous interrupted him.

"Experience from before the invention of hyperdrive doesn't help with starships," the Mandalorian growled snidely.

"I forget, which Mandalorian war did you fight in?" Jolee said. "It was the first one, right? The one where your side won by inventing a revolutionary weapon called a club?"

"Why are you all talking sending HK to kill Carth is something I would even consider? I told you before, all I have of Revan is dreams... and..." Vane leaned against the holotable in the _Hawk's_ common area. "Ideas." He looked up at the gunner's hatch. The escape from the _Leviathan_ had been narrow, and a small fire had broken out inside the turret. There were scorch marks on the bulkhead. "My name is Vane Telgar. I was a soldier for the Republic. Now I'm a Jedi. I guess physically I maybe used to be Revan, but that's not what I remember. And maybe Revan would send an assassin droid to go get Carth, but Vane Telgar is going to go sit down and talk with him. Jolee, I trust you can get us to..." He frowned at the floor. They'd been going to Dantooine, but now the Sith had done to it what they had done to Taris. "Manaan, I suppose. It's the last place left on our list. Force protect us if we can't complete the map there. I suppose we'd speak to the High Council on Coruscant?"

The others looked around shamefaced, with the exception of HK, who watched impassively, and Canderous, who snickered as Jolee headed up to the cockpit. Vane started down the corridor and slipped into the portside quarters. Carth glared at him from one of the bunks. He was lying back in an incongruously relaxed pose. Vane closed the door and leaned against it.

"Do you want to talk?"

"Not particularly," Carth said. "Why do you always open up like that? If I wanted to talk--"

"You never talk to anyone unless they talk first, especially when you want to talk, Carth. Look, I know every sense of outrage and betrayal you have is ringing like a bell right now. But maybe you should think about how I feel. I don't _remember_ being Revan, Carth, I don't _remember_ knowing Malak and fighting the Mandalorian War and turning on the Republic, okay? All I _remember_ is a perfectly ordinary childhood, and then being really good at being a soldier. I've got this whole life up here," he tapped the side of his head with two fingers, vigorously enough that his whole body moved and his lightsabers bobbed at his hips." It's an entire life, Carth, with a mother, and a father, and a homeworld. I can remember a little brother, only he never forgave me for leaving Lothal and the farm. He hasn't talked to me in twenty years. And that's... that's not because we had a falling out. It should be, that's what I _remember_ it being about, but it's actually because he doesn't exist. Because my entire family, Carth, my whole family are all fiction. They're just a story that Master Vandar and Vrook dreamed up one day to write over the parts of me that did exist. I don't know if I know my mother. I don't know if... Effectively, I mean, really, Carth..." Vane sank down against the door, and Carth sat up to watch him. There were tears streaming down the Jedi's face. "Everyone I have is on this ship. Nine people, and Malak just stole one of them, because the people I thought I could trust the most sent her with me to make sure I didn't ever really remember who I am." Carth stood and, alarmed, moved to Vane's side. "You all follow me, but I followed Bastila, and I followed you. I don't know what to do. I mean... a Mandalorian, a Jedi, an old man, a Wookiee, a kid, and two droids... I'm trying to save the galaxy with... with the people in a bad joke, and I should be blaming the Jedi because this is wrong and so... so stupid, but they're probably..." he sobbed. "Dead."

Carth had situated himself on the floor, sitting beside Vane. Vane's face was buried in his left hand, hidden from Carth.

"I'm sorry," Carth said after a long while. Vane leaned against him. Another long while passed, and Carth's arm came up to find and squeeze Vane's shoulder, soothingly. "I should have thought about it. I just assumed..."

"I don't like to talk about my family," Vane muttered. "Probably keeps me from thinking about it too hard." He pulled his hand away from his face and sniffled hugely. The tracks of tears ran down his dark skin, and his nose had clearly been running as he worked through his small breakdown. Carth stood and offered him a hand.

"Here," Carth said, directing him to one of the bunks. "Sit down. I'll go get you a cloth." The pilot walked out, and the Jedi sat staring at the wall until he came back, closing the door behind him. Carth held out the damp cloth, and Vane scrubbed at his face with it. It was blessedly cool, and Vane thanked him while Carth sat on the bunk next to him.

"Why did you follow me?" Carth asked.

"You're a leader," Vane replied.

"I mean... I mean back on Taris. You always let me lead the way, even when you obviously had a better idea where to go"

"Oh," Vane said, flushing slightly. "That. I... commanders lead, Carth. That's all it was... I mean, I just wasn't confident at first. But then... then you had those blasters, and you might have noticed that I'm no good with them. I guess it's because my body is... was already used to using a lightsaber. So you could pump so much energy into the people who were trying to kill us, and I had to run up and let them shoot at me if I wanted to do any good in a fight. And we both did a lot of saving each other's lives, but you were just so... dangerous."

"So I'm a shield?" Carth concluded.

"Well, you were for a while. But about the time we got Bastila back, you remember you picked up that Bonadan suit? The red one, with the stripe?"

Carth nodded.

"Well, someone at Bonadan Armor is... very lonely and frustrated." Vane smirked a bit and held his hands out at waist level, cupped like he was holding a ripe melon. The damp cloth was still clutched in his fingers. He gestured abruptly a little upward and outward, in a surprisingly clear indicator for the concept of a shapely behind firmly supported by tight clothing.

Carth plucked the cloth from Vane's grip and stared at him. "You were ogling my butt?"

"Republic Holonet News Update: athletic active-service war hero has firm buttocks. Dateline! Republic research team concludes Tatooine is dry, also a little unpleasant!" Vane leaned over to bump his shoulder into Carth's as he spoke in his best Holonet newscaster voice. Carth bumped him back, laughing. They let their mirth trail off into silence, staring at the deck grating.

"We should put a carpet in here or something," Carth said.

The hyperdrive hummed away near the aft end of the ship, for minute after endless minute. "I think that last hit we took on our way out might've fucked up the hyperdrive a little," Vane said. "I should get T3 to look at it."

"I'm sorry," Carth replied. "I should have thought about what you were feeling instead of dumping all that attitude on you."

Vane smiled at him. "It's okay, Carth. I think we were all shocked. It seems like everyone decided you were the person to pick on after you walked out. I told them off for it. HK might try to kill you, just so you know."

"Can I shoot him when this is all over?" Carth asked.

Vane shrugged. "There's something seriously wrong with that droid, but he's so psychotic it's almost charming. I'll probably see if I can get someone to tinker with his program, make him less... y'know... evil."

Carth stood up and left the room. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes," he promised, and Vane leaned back against the wall. While he and Carth talked, the cloth had dried out, and assumed the curious crispness cloths soaked in recycled water always took on after drying. He flicked it off the bunk at the far wall, extending its flight with the force, and the door whooshed open.

Carth was holding a small tray of food, a couple of pieces of fruit and meals from the ship's stores, plus water. He was also wearing the Bonadan armor. Red fabric clung tightly to his legs, and was interrupted at his sides by holsters for his blasters, worked in brown synth-leather. A functional belt served as a mounting point for various equipment, and Vane knew for a fact that it was incorporated heavily into the tough fabric of the suit. Carth's chest was covered by the breastplate, a shiny segmented plastoid armor piece, and the red fabric clung to his torso and arms. 

Vane's eyes went a little wide. Carth handed him the tray and turned in place, modeling the armor.

"Fuck," Vane breathed.

Carth grabbed the tray and moved it to another bunk. "Next time, _you're_ putting on something tight and supportive for _me."_ He reached out and grabbed Vane's hands.

Vane closed his eyes and leaned forward to kiss Carth.

+===+

Meetra Surik walked around the ship she had just inherited. Kreia seemed to have decided to take up residence in the portside crew quarters. Leave it to the old woman to take the only carpeted room on the ship. And such a strange color for the deep, shaggy carpet: who even made carpets in Bonadan Armor Red?


End file.
